Page 23 of October

But fuck if that doesn’t scare me.

“I can feel you staring at me,” she says as she pats her face dry with a hand towel.

“I wasn’t trying to hide it.”

She flips the bathroom light off and stalks toward me, looking good enough to eat with her hair in a messy bun, wearing only panties and a lacy sports bra thing. It’s hot.

“I’m sad,” she admits as she climbs onto the bed and into my arms.

“Why?” I ask, pulling her as close as I can.

“Our bubble bursts tomorrow,” I lay her head on my chest and begin to trace shapes on my stomach with her fingertips.

“I know. I was just thinking about that too.”

“I think I’ll miss having free rein of you here,” she says, looking up at me with a small smile.

She wants to talk. She wants to have this conversation right now, which I should have with her, but…

I’m absolutely fucking terrified.

So instead of talking, I trace the lines of her curves, touching every spot I know will have her purring in my hands.

I can control this. I can make her feel good this way. I don’t have to confront the worry right this second.

Within minutes, I’m pressing inside of her, reveling in the warmth and comfort I’ve come to find in her body.

We don’t rush it. We don’t ravage each other this time. It’s different, it’s slow.

I watch her eyes, memorizing every part of her face and little expressions she makes when I rock against her.

I kiss everywhere I can reach, showering her with the affection she deserves, thanking her with my body over and over again until she is trembling under my touch.

“Ash,” she whispers, clasping on to my shoulders as she begins to come. “I love you.”

I come as she does, but that doesn’t stop the bucket of ice water from dropping over my head at her words.

She loves me.

Fuck. Shelovesme.

Instead of baring my soul to her, like she deserves, I don’t say a thing.

Wren

I’ve been embarrassed a few times in my life. Who hasn’t?

But telling a man you love him and not getting any kind of response in return takes the cake of the most embarrassing moment of my life.

Not only that, but the most heartbreaking to top it off.

I didn’t confront him after we’d made love. I didn’t want our final night together, in his bed, to be a fight.

So instead, I curled against him and barely slept in between silent tears.

The sun has barely risen when I make the decision to leave before he wakes. I’m supposed to go with him to pick up Casey, but I can’t. Not anymore.

I need space.

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